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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493513">burned, about to burn, or still on fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherGayEllen/pseuds/AnotherGayEllen'>AnotherGayEllen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>what the hell would i be without you? [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Falsettos - Lapine/Finn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(kinda), An itty bitty of Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Fear of Death, Found Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, HIV/AIDS, Marvin knows he's going to die, No Dialogue, Post-Canon, Stream of Consciousness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:47:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherGayEllen/pseuds/AnotherGayEllen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On the brink of a tragedy is an unconventionally terrible place to be.</p>
<p>They'd gone through it when Whizzer got sick. The inevitability of the end, colored with a tiny, cruel glimmer of hope.</p>
<p>It’s been four years, and life, although much better than the months following Whizzer’s death, now carries an awkward kind of burden. Marvin never really left the brink.</p>
<p>Or; Marvin thinks about how he lives knowing how is he going to die.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brief Jason &amp; Marvin, Past Whizzer Brown &amp; Marvin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>what the hell would i be without you? [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>burned, about to burn, or still on fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the brink of a tragedy is an unconventionally horrible place to be.</p>
<p>They’d gone through it when Whizzer got sick. The inevitability of the end, colored with a tiny, cruel glimmer of hope. Everything about that time was off. They couldn’t mourn yet, not when his heart was still beating and his soul, against all odds, still shone through. They couldn’t mourn him, but they couldn’t save him. All they could do was wait. See the thread that held him up on the verge of snapping, and somehow ever talk about anything else. Go on with their lives, work, study, sleep, as if nothing had happened, because nothing had, yet. It was a time that came with an absurd sense of doom, a crushing fear, and a tremendous amount of reflection.</p>
<p>On the very brink of a tragedy, possibly the worst place Marvin has ever been in (which is no easy feat); second only to the tragedy itself. </p>
<p>The aftermath of Whizzer’s death had been a blurry mess of anger and despair and bleakness. A lot of bleakness. When Whizzer passed, it had felt like he had taken all the color of the world with him. It was hard to know what to think or feel or do. No one tells you how you’re supposed to live after your future dies. But time helps and patience works and his family and friends carry paint brushes all around; bits of color were brought back into the world, bit by bit. Some places remained frozen in the grey, though; Marvin doesn’t drive past the bar he and Whizzer first met.</p>
<p>It’s been four years, and life, although much better than the months following Whizzer’s death, now carries an awkward kind of burden. Marvin never really left the brink.</p>
<p>Charlotte was close to certain, back then, about what Marvin’s fate was going to look like; if the last few months had been able to tell them anything, was that it would be an awful lot like Whizzer’s. </p>
<p>They kept it to themselves for a while. There’s only so much a family can bear at a time, and it wouldn’t do any good for Whizzer to worry. Maybe he’d have been mad if he knew they were planning on not telling him, but he isn’t mad now, is he?</p>
<p>Months passed and nothing had happened yet. Still, he decided it was time to tell them. They could’ve drawn their own conclusions, this sickness was taking gay men out by the thousands, and Marvin was sure someone had connected the dots already. But he wanted to be sure they were prepared, as prepared as one can be for something like this. More prepared than they were last time. </p>
<p>They had a family meeting, the six of them met in Marvin’s place. He considered whether or not Jason should be there, but he figured that’s what he’d want, he’s already a man after all. Way sooner than he should be one.</p>
<p>At first, it felt a lot like being back at where they were on Whizzer’s first night at the hospital (the last place he’d ever be); but with less shock, and with less hope. The idea had already settled into Marvin’s mind, he wanted them to talk openly about it, have a mature conversation (he’s making up for lost time). Where he would be buried, next to Whizzer; where his things would go, some of his money to research, most of it to Jason, much like his things except for a couple that he wanted to leave to Charlotte and Cordelia.</p>
<p>Cordelia’s eyes were filled with tears as she held Marvin’s hand tight, sniffing quietly by his side. Charlotte stood beside her with a hand on her shoulder, assuring Marvin, as well as telling the others, that every wish he had for after he passed would be granted. Trina sobbed into Mendel’s shoulder, her heart, just barely glued back together, being shattered into pieces all over again. Mendel’s own eyes were red as he held her and Jason in each of his arms. After everything, Marvin was glad to have him there, he’ll be the one to take care of their family once he’s gone. Jason’s face was unreadable. Eyes wide and brows close together, gaze far away as he clutched the fabric of his pants until his hands were red. At the announcement, Marvin hadn’t been sure Jason wouldn’t get overwhelmed and run out of the room. But he’s gone through this before, and he’s grown. Marvin wishes he could be there to see the man he’ll turn out to be. At the thought, he barked out a sob, which led to another, and another.</p>
<p>One by one and all at once they came close, piling up on the sofa, comforting Marvin with one big hug that was familiar to them by now, in a bittersweet way. Jason was the last person to tear apart from Marvin, not-so-little-anymore arms wrapped tight around his torso and face pressed against his chest. He hadn't cried before, but he was crying now.</p>
<p>The conversation then turned to pure mush. Recollections of old times, the good and the bad, their relationships with each other. Laughs in between tears and sobs in between smiles. Marvin told them how grateful he felt for having each of them in his life (<em>'yes, even you Mendel'</em>), and how lucky he was to have a family like that, infinitely better than he ever could have dreamed of when he was a kid. Somehow on that, they agreed: they are lucky because they have each other.</p>
<p>If Charlotte had been close to certain when she first told him, they were completely certain now. Four years later a test was developed and Marvin took it: HIV positive. </p>
<p>That was a few months ago.</p>
<p>Marvin has already lived way more than he thought he would, and though he wouldn’t let himself have hope, before the confirmation the thought that he would be spared, despite all odds, crossed his mind from time to time. Not anymore. The virus is already inside of him, his life at its mercy. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, this is going to happen. All he can do is wait.</p>
<p>Marvin thinks about death all the time now. He hadn’t quite realized that until one day at the office when his coworkers were talking about a man who had been shot near one of their houses. They talked about the shock of seeing a body, how it makes one think about mortality. How we’re so fragile, and everything we have, everything we are, will one day end. How unimaginable it is, to go back to the darkness that we came from.</p>
<p>Marvin excused himself. He didn’t say it, but a clear thought went through his head as to why he didn’t want to participate in the conversation: ‘<em> I already think about death too much </em> .’ He stops at that. ‘ <em> All the time, actually. I think about death all the time.’ </em></p>
<p>Even before the test came back positive, for the last four years, death has been on the back of his mind like an ex-lover. The absolute confirmation didn’t pick a scab, it deepened an already open wound.</p>
<p>And maybe you’re thinking since it’s been so long, Marvin should be back to normal by now. The thing is he doesn't know what normal is supposed to feel like anymore. </p>
<p>His days are normal if you ignore the surge of panic that comes with a common cold. He maintains normal relationships with his friends if you disregard the deafening silence every time the news mentions the epidemic. He feels normal if you don't count the times he bursts into tears at remembering he won't get to see Jason grow up.</p>
<p>He lives, every day, knowing his fate is sealed in the most literal way possible; knowing his life ends in tragedy. What does one do in the middle of it, when it's not tragic just yet? It seems like one eats breakfast; and goes to work; and spends time with his son. One gets drunk with his friends; and talks about his feelings, more often than not, about his oncoming fate. One visits his lover's grave. One thinks about his own, right next to his. Thinks about death, all the time.</p>
<p>Every thought it seems one could have of it, he’s had it. All of the philosophizing, the wondering, the questioning. About the meaning of it all, about the fragility of us, about what he leaves behind, about what comes next; Marvin’s done them all. But somehow he keeps finding new ways to think about it. Finding new ways to be scared of death. </p>
<p>That fear is always there, like a shadow, like walking around with a bomb attached. It's still fear, but he's used to it now. Even the paranoia, and the silences, and the bursts of emotion, they’ve become his normal. As normal as it'll ever be again, he supposes. It isn't ok, but it is what it is. Despite everything, he's been able to grow somewhat grateful for having this much time. He truly didn’t think he would. Who knows how much more he has left?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marvin wakes up with two pink-purple spots on his chest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can't decide if this is very good or a lil underwhelming<br/>But it's here! And I really like the title hehe<br/>I haven't posted in a little while, and I've been working on things that aren't vent fics but oh boy, with the amount of real life angst my life has, they are just so easy lmao</p>
<p>hope you liked it, kudos/comments are appreciated &lt;3</p>
<p>oh, and you can talk to me on tumblr @/superkitten-poison (I know the name is cringe, but so am I)</p>
<p>title from "straw house, straw dog" by richard siken</p></blockquote></div></div>
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